


So Just Act Like You Love Me

by twilightstargazer



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-30
Updated: 2017-07-30
Packaged: 2018-12-07 04:41:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11616078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twilightstargazer/pseuds/twilightstargazer
Summary: “Petunia knows Sirius, but she doesn’t know you,” she says, and her voice doesn’t wobble even once.He doesn’t seem to catch it, but Sirius is staring at her with his eyebrows raised, just a little. She ignores it and trudges forward, steeling herself for what's to come.“Petunia doesn’t know you. She doesn't know that we're just friends or that we argue like nothing else so–”A flicker of understanding flares to life in his eyes and his jaw almost falls open. “Oh god.”or, Lily was looking forward to a nice, quiet Christmas by herself. Instead she's heading back home for her sister's engagement party with a fake boyfriend in tow.





	So Just Act Like You Love Me

**Author's Note:**

> prompt: _'at christmas tea is compulsory, relatives are optional'_
> 
> shout out to [Ria](http://gxldentrio.tumblr.com/), [Gracie](http://prongsno.tumblr.com/), and [Sriram](http://tamilprongspotter.tumblr.com/) for reassuring me that my garbage fic wasn't complete garbage. love you all <3

It starts, like most things do when she has to deal with her sister, with a great helping of spite, maleficence, and vindictiveness.

Those are probably not the best combination of things to feel when dealing with her own blood but, well, Lily doesn’t really know any other way _to_ deal with her.

This is why she gets herself into situations like these in the first place if she’s being honest with herself. She’s kind of a disaster.

The first thing to happen is that for once, she actually checks her mailbox downstairs and, among the usual rubbish of old flyers and notices, is a thick, expensive, pale beige envelope that holds an equally weighty piece of cardstock inside.

She already knows what it is even without opening it, but she still feels some kind of shock wash over her when she finally reads the small, gold print cursive.

_Mr. Vernon Dursley and Ms. Petunia Evans cordially invite you to celebrate their engagement._

It’s not surprising to hear that her sister has gone and gotten herself engaged to her oaf of a boyfriend -- god knows she’s been hearing ‘ _when Vernon and I are married_ ’ for the better part of a year now whenever Petunia was around -- but it is surprising, and a bit hurtful, that this is how she found it.

Through a card posted almost two weeks ago.

About her only sister’s impending _marriage_.

And that brings her to the second thing.

Lily doesn’t call Petunia very often. Or at all really. But as soon as she gets back to her flat, and after she takes a healthy swig of whiskey straight from the bottle, she’s dialing her number.

“Hello?”

“Oh hi _sis_ ,” she says viciously into the speaker, “Or should I say Mrs Petunia _Dursley_?”

Petunia sighs on the other and it just serves to stoke the anger bubbling up inside her.

“I see you’ve gotten the invitation,” she says, her voice neutral and apparently unbothered.

“Uh huh. Seriously? An engagement party the weekend before Christmas? Are you kidding me?” Lily huffs, taking another pull from the bottle. “You _hate_ winter.”

“Well it’s not like I’m getting married in the ruddy snow, now is it,” she objects. “You don’t have to come you know.”

“Of course I have to _come_ ,” Lily sputtters. “I’m your _sister_ , you just got _engaged_ . If I don’t show up Aunt Martha wouldn’t shut up about it. God, I can’t believe you put the party _the weekend before Christmas_. Do you know how hard it’s going to be for people to get days off?”

On the other end of the line, Petunia makes a sound of derision low in her throat.

“Oh please, what do you need time for anyway,” she scoffs. “You don’t have a _real_ job you need to finagle time off from and you sure as hell don’t have a boyfriend or whatever freaks like you are into these days.”

Lily sees red.

Yeah, her job as a writer for a women’s magazine and website gives her more flexibility than most, but she still needs to run things like this by her boss, especially since traffic tends to increase at this time of year as they run more articles and listicles about ‘ _Top Ten Things to Buy Your Girlfriend This Year_ ’ or ‘ _Christmas: Capitalism’s Wet Dream_ ’.

And don’t even get her _started_ on the boyfriend comment.

“It would have been _polite_ ,” she snaps, “I’m your sister.”

“Which is why I sent you an invitation,” Petunia says, and even from here she can picture her clearly rolling her eyes.

“Oh wow, you’re _so generous_ , I can’t thank you enough.”

“Whatever,” says Petunia. “I’m putting you down as just one on the guest list.”

“Actually I have a plus one,” she bites out. “So you can put me _and_ my _boyfriend_ down on your stupid list and tell mum to expect us home for Christmas.”

She ends the call right after and stomps into the kitchen to get more whiskey.

She’s glaring at the card while she drinks, hoping that if she stares at it long enough it might burst into flames. Stupid Petunia and her stupid engagement and her stupid card that she probably spent ages agonising over before she decided on that perfect shade of white that Lily could honestly not give less of a fuck about.

It doesn’t really work and instead she’s forced to confront the fact that holy shit she just said _that_.

Oh _fuck_.

It takes her all of two seconds before she’s grabbing the bottle of whiskey and marching down the hall, bunny slippers and all, to the flat on the very end.

She doesn’t even bother knocking, just pushes the door open and slams it shut, flinging herself onto the couch.

“I have a made a grave mistake,” she announces, throwing an arm over her eyes. From his spot across from her, Sirius snorts.

“Welcome to the club,” he tells her, and then throws a popcorn kernel at her face.

Sirius Black is the kind of person Lily never imagined she would become friends with. He’s almost always wearing something made out of leather, rides a 1970 Harley Davidson, and still has a fucking man bun in addition to an entire sleeve of tattoos which— okay, that is the _exact_ type of person that she would be friends with, but it’s his personality that’s just so fucking _weird_.

For one, he’s a part time model who rents a flat with his equally successful best mate in a building that’s mostly struggling millennials who obviously have an avocado toast addiction since they’re living in the cheapest part of town.

Another thing he does is listen to Bach… like all the time. He snorts in derision whenever she has the gall to play whatever weekly top forty hit is her jam at the moment. Not to mention that he reads _Ovid_ . He even has a tobacco pipe that he likes to stick in his mouth while doing so and it’s honestly the most intense form of pretension she’s ever witnessed in her _life_.

Lily groans. “I don’t want to be a part of the club,” she whines, “There shouldn’t even be a club like that, it sucks.”

“Hey fuck you, I’m a lifetime member of the grave mistake club,” he tells her, “In fact, I’m the fucking president of the grave mistake club.” Finally his gaze settles on the bottle in her hand and he squints at it. “Is that whiskey?”

“It just got off the phone with my sister.”

“Come on Evans, you and I both know that _tequila_ is the drink of choice when talking with estranged siblings,” he chides her. “I’m sure we have some 1800 in the cupboard somewhere.”

“Shut up let me get drunk in peace please.”

“You do realise that you could have done this at your own flat, right? You didn’t have to come here and bother us.”

“Yeah, but where’s the fun in that?” she asks, taking a pull from the bottle. “Where’s your other half anyway?”

“In his room. I thought he would have appeared as soon as he heard your dulcet tones.”

“I was hiding because I heard yelling!” shouts a disembodied voice down the hall.

“No one was yelling!”

“You’re yelling right now, Evans,” he says, finally poking his head out of his room.

If Sirius wasn’t the kind of person she became friends with, then she honestly does not have any idea where to class James on that scale.

He probably doesn’t even _fit_ on the scale.

Lily Evans and James Potter are a strange pair of friends in the sense that their main form of communication is bickering with a side of honest to god screaming matches that leaves them working the cold shoulder for days until someone sucks it up and apologises.

(He usually apologised by delivering a box of coconut cream cupcakes to her door, and she does the same with the disgusting craft beer he loves so much. Neither of them never _ever_ utters the words ‘I’m sorry’.)

Sirius has stopped trying to run interference after the third time it happened. Now he just makes sly comments from the sidelines and sometimes take bets on who’ll walk out first if Remus and Peter are there.

“No one was yelling,” she maintains, taking care to use her inside voice and James grins at her.

It knocks her off her feet for a moment. Just a little bit of course.

“I’ll let you have this one for now–”

“–because you know I’m right–”

“–if you tell me why you’re sullying my home with cheap alcohol,” he finishes, nodding at the bottle. “It’s going to ruin the whole bachelor lifestyle aesthetic that I’ve been carefully cultivating since I moved in.”

“I thought Sirius already did that.”

“Bitch, I am the _personification_ of aesthetic, get your facts straight.”

That at least gets a smile out of her, the first one since she got off the phone with her sister, and James seems to be biting back one of his own.

“Come on, Evans,” he says easily, knocking her shoulder lightly with his, “What’s wrong?”

Letting out a sigh that seems far too big for her body, Lily slumps back into the couch, head tilted upwards. “My sister is getting married. Well, she’s going to. Eventually. She just got engaged,” she explains. “She’s having an engagement party in about a week and a half and I’m required to show up and rub shoulders with all of my family members during bloody Christmas time.”

There’s a pause and then–

“Ugh, _weddings_ ,” Sirius shudders, his disdain clear as ever. He says the word wedding as someone might say _invasive procedure_ or _Donald Trump_. “Truly a blight on humanity.”

“That’s because you’re not attracted to anyone,” Lily shoots back. “Although, I’m sure if you could have married your motorbike, you would.”

“Damn straight.”

“You’re not.”

“Neither are you.”

“Touche.”

“So what’s the problem?” asks James, talking over the two of them. His eyes are trained on her profile, the barest hint of a frown tugging at his lips, and she feels her skin warm all over. “I mean it can’t just be the party.”

“It could also be my family,” she objects, “Do you know how exhausting it’s going to be to spend time with all of them? That’s like, one of the worst parts of get togethers, navigating the social hierarchies in place.”

He snorts. “Yeah, okay, try doing this with a _brown_ family instead,” he says, smirking slightly. “You’ll never say a bad word against your family after the aunties are through ripping you to shreds.”

Lily takes a deep breath as she averts her gaze, shame and embarrassment rolling in her stomach.

“You’re right, it’s not,” she says softly, screwing her eyes shut. “It’s also because I… I told Petunia I was dating someone. That I was coming with my boyfriend.”

Silence. And then—

“Well that’s a problem,” Sirius says slowly, and she manages a watery laugh in return.

“Yeah. It is. I can’t tell her that and then show up with no one one my arm. I’ll never hear the end of it,” she groans.

“Do you think you’ll be able to find an actual boyfriend so soon?” asks James, “I mean, you’re a… fairly attractive young woman. It shouldn’t be hard.”

“Oh yeah, she’s _fairly attractive_ ,” mutters Sirius under his breath and he throws a dirty look at him. Lily doesn’t notice, too busy picking at the label on the bottle and wallowing in self pity.

“I don’t really date much,” she shrugs. “Never had, really. I went out with this guy in sixth form for a few months, just for the novelty I guess. Plus I hooked up with people at uni. And then after that I had a kind of… casual thing with a Dorcas for a few months. But that’s the extent of my dating history and I’m not particularly interested in reopening it.” She stops and stretches, nudging him with a sock clad toe. “I was just sex, drugs, and alcohol. I’m the girl your parents told you to stay away from.”

“Oh yeah, you’re terrifying,” he deadpans. “You’ll offer pot to my ankles.”

“Fuck you.”

He ruffles her hair and she actually snaps her teeth at him. “You’re pocket sized, Evans. It’s time to face facts.”

“You’re just obnoxiously tall.”

“Sorry, what was that?” he grins, leaning in close so that his entire left is flush with her side. “I can’t hear you down there.”

“If you two are done,” Sirius interjects dryly and she feels her cheeks go red, “We’re trying to solve Evans’ crisis.”

“Right,” says Lily, nodding, and James clears his throat besides her.

“You could always hire someone,” he muses. “You know, a Julia Roberts to your Richard Gere.”

“I’m not hiring a _prostitute_!” she hisses.

“I didn’t say it had to be a _prostitute_ ,” he defends himself. “You could hire someone online. Post an ad on Craigslist. See if there’s a special section for escorts in the classifieds.”

“I’m not going to bring someone I don’t even know back home with me,” she maintains. “That’s just asking to get my kidneys stolen. I like my kidneys exactly where they are thanks.”

“What about if they steal your liver instead?” Sirius asks, stretching out across the chaise lounge he bought a few years back. He claimed it was more comfortable than the lumpy, sagging couch, but Lily secretly believes he just wants to use it to further his dramatics. “You never said anything about your liver.”

“I would like to get through this week with _all_ my organs intact,” she says firmly.

“Alright fine, don’t hire someone,” he throws his hands up. “Go with Sirius. You have a couple of weeks to train him.”

“Plus I’m prettier than _all_ you bitches,” he adds smugly.

Lily ignores that. “Petunia already knows him. And she knows that he’s not fond of dating people. She’d never buy it.”

“What about if I grow a goatee and wear a beret?” he counters. “I could be your French mystery man. Call me Gaston.”

“God no,” she snorts, though it does start the gears rolling in her head. “But you did give me an idea.”

“What part of _that_ gave you an idea?” James asks, horrified. “I swear to Christ Evans, if something about a goatee and bad french impersonation gave you an idea–”

“Not that part you git,” she huffs, swatting at his stomach. “Going with someone I know.”

“Yeah, but you don’t know that much people,” says Sirius. “You’re kind of a hermit.”

“Shut up, Sirius.”

He makes a face and flips her off, but quietens anyway.

Lily takes a deep breath to calm her nerves, which have suddenly gotten all jittery in her stomach, before looking back at James.

It’s probably not the _best_ idea— she’s seen all the Hallmark movies, she knows just how badly these things can go— but, quite frankly, she’s out of options.

(And, okay, maybe a very tiny, microscopic, morbidly curious part of her wants to see how this is going to play out. A very, very small part. It’s almost _inconsequential_ really.)

“Petunia knows Sirius, but she doesn’t know you,” she says, and her voice doesn’t wobble even once.

He doesn’t seem to catch it, but Sirius is staring at her with his eyebrows raised, just a little. She ignores it and trudges forward, steeling herself for what's to come.

“Petunia doesn’t know you. She doesn't know that we're just friends or that we argue like nothing else so–”

A flicker of understanding flares to life in his eyes and his jaw almost falls open. “Oh god.”

“–James, would you please be my fake boyfriend for the engagement party?”

“Oh _god_ ,” he says again, looking vaguely horrified.

Meanwhile Sirius actually _falls off_ the chaise laughing, and she can feel the blood rushing to her face while James just stares at her.

-

Surprisingly, they actually do manage to work out the kinks of her convoluted plan rather quickly.

James gets over his initial shock fast enough and agrees to help out— though Lily did have to promise to buy him a pack of bourbon biscuits every week for the next three months— and once Sirius managed to get over his laughing fit, he’s also rather helpful in building up their story.

Although that shouldn’t really be a surprise; Sirius has always had a knack for drama and theatrics. It figures weaving a thrilling tale of romance out of thin air would be right up his alley.

So after all the details have been hammered out, requisite phone calls made, and train tickets booked, Lily spends the next few days adamantly _not_ thinking about the upcoming trip. She let it slip to Marlene and Mary and they both agreed that this was by far the silliest thing she's ever done.

She has to agree.

The morning of their departure comes far too soon and she can feel the dread curdling in her stomach, twisting it into knots so much that she can’t even sleep properly, tossing and turning all night long.

It’s probably a bit _too_ dramatic of a reaction but, well. It’s her _sister_.

Lily and Petunia weren’t always like this.

When they were younger they were as thick as thieves, but she soon grew out of it, and realised that her older sister— who she thought was good and right about everything— wasn’t all that infallible.

It started with the little things, petty arguments about this or that and then the fissure between them just kept on widening and widening until one day she realised that they were on opposite sides of everything.

Lily would be out there protesting for human rights while her sister sits indoors with her pearls and ignores everything else.

(Petunia _hated_ anything that deviated from what was considered the norm— white, straight, cis… she sneered at them all.)

So Lily cut her out and never once did she try to fit back in. If anything, she just strayed further away.

James knocks on her door when she’s still packing and she swears. She should have finished it last night but instead she fell asleep while watching old episodes of MasterChef. There’s just something about watching Gordon Ramsay yell at people that calms her nerves.

“Sorry!” she says, flinging open the door to let him in.

There are two to-go cups in his hands and she can smell the special artisan roast that Sirius only breaks out on rare occasions. He’s already dressed with a backpack slung over his shoulders and a duffle at his feet, hair in complete disarray as always but looking put together nonetheless.

Meanwhile Lily is still in her pyjamas with a rat’s nest atop her head and her stomach grumbling something awful.

He flashes her a lopsided grin. “No worries, I’m early,” he says, slipping in. He tosses his bags on the couch and heads straight to her kitchen. “Sirius suspected that you might be a little… frazzled this morning.”

“Is he coming over to say goodbye?” she asks, watching as he rummages around her cabinets, pulling out things at random. She lets him do it without comment and slips back into her rooms. Unlike her whose abilities in the kitchen don’t extend pass eggs and toast in the morning, James is the king of breakfast foods.

“Yeah, as soon as he’s done blow drying his hair,” he rolls his eyes. “You know how he is.”

“Forgive me for caring about my hair,” the man in question shoots back as he walks in. “Some of us actually have pride in our appearances.”

“Yeah, yeah, go help Evans. I don’t think she’s even packed as yet,” he tells him as he starts chopping up some onions.

Sirius glances at her and runs a critical eye over her form. “You’re right, she needs all the help she can get. She looks terrible.”

“I’m standing _right here_ ,” objects Lily.

“Well you look terrible. It’s like you’ve never even heard of a hairbrush.” He cocks his head to the side, studying her. “This is why James is your boyfriend.”

“Fake boyfriend!” the two of them say simultaneously, and he snorts.

“Semantics. Now come on. Let’s go get you pretty.”

After a stress filled hour which involved emptying the entire contents of her closet, letting Sirius pick her shoes to carry, an argument involving a curling iron, and scarfing down half of James’ frittata, they were finally ready to go.

“Now remember, in the event that you do have to murder anyone, make sure you don’t get any blood on my scarf,” Sirius tells her as he drops them off at the train station.

“I’ll try my best,” she says dryly.

“And you,” he says, looking at sidelong at James, “I know everyone says to be yourself at these things, but your regular personality is pretty shitty–”

“– wow, you’re such a good friend–”

“– so you should try emulating me,” he finishes, preening. “Because I’m obviously the best.”

“I’m going to strangle you when we get back,” James says cheerily as she drags off into the throngs of people.

Always one to have the last word, Sirius yells back, “Save it for Evans!”

There’s about the normal amount of people milling around for the train at this hour and the two of them manages to snag a bench fairly close to their platform. Lily immediately sags down on it.

“Thanks again for doing this with me,” she says, leaning into him slightly.

He pushes back into her for a brief moment. “It’s fine, Evans. Mum and Dad are out of the country and besides, we’ve never really been big on Christmas.”

“A true travesty,” she says mournfully and he laughs.

“No, a true travesty is the unseasoned meat you all consider Christmas dinner.”

“Um, rude.”

“Um, _right_.”

“Shut up,” she tells him before yawning widely.

“Well don’t swallow everyone,” he says wryly, and she pinches his arm.

“I’m just really tired. I didn’t get much sleep last night.”

“Well it’s pretty long train ride,” he says. “You could take a nap.”

“I mean I could, but I can’t really sleep when I’m moving, it’s weird.”

There’s a call for boarding, cutting off their conversation, and they both stand up. James takes her bag for her and she shoots him a dirty look that he pretends not to see.

They find their seats easily enough and James sorts out the luggage.

It’s strange seeing him in this role, the charming gentleman. She’s almost expecting him to slip a beetle down her back or something when he leans over her to fix the window.

Her leg starts shaking when they finally pull out of the station and he notices, putting a hand on her knee to stop it.

“So you’ve told me about your sister, but what about the rest of them? I mean, if you want me to dazzle your family you have to give me all the details, Evans,” he says, flashing a smile.

“If I wanted someone to dazzle them I would have brought Sirius,” she says. “You’re probably going to mildly sparkle at best.”

“You do realise that I’m doing you a favour right?”

“You are a god amongst men,” she corrects immediately and he can't quite hide his laugh.

“Nice save. Now come on. What does mummy Evans do? Will your dad shoot me if I put my hand on your waist in front of him? When you say Vernon is a whale, what kind of whale do you mean? And how much PDA are we doing this weekend?”

She makes a face, trying to get the jumble of thoughts in order before jumping right in.

“Mum is primary school teacher so she knows how to handle children like you, dad is an accountant and he can’t hurt a fly,” she begins to list off, dodging his hands that try to tickle her side. “Vernon is a sperm whale because he’s a dick, and I actually didn’t think of that but maybe as much as the situation requires?” She scrunches up her nose. “I’m not really big on PDA so just simple stuff I guess. You know, handholding and all that shit.”

“Got it,” he nods. “Do we have any pet names for each other? Because I’m totally down with calling you my _cookie jar_.”

“I will smother you in your sleep if you dare,” she threatens and he laughs, loud and bright.

“Yeah, that was the reaction I expected. I'll just go with sugarplum instead.”

-

She doesn’t exactly know when she falls asleep, but she wakes up to something poking her ribs and groans.

“Welcome back to the land of the living, Evans.”

“Ugh, shut up,” she grumbles, trying to blink the sleep out of her eyes. There is a terrible crick in her neck when she finally sits up straight and she twists it this way and that, waiting for it to click. “Where are we?”

“About ten minutes out,” he says, glancing at his watch.

Lily’s eyebrows climb up her forehead and if she squints, she can see the station in the distance. 

“Jesus.” She slept for the better part of the ride.

“Yeah. You decided to use me as your own personal pillow about half an hour in,” he says as he tucks his book back into his backpack. “You drool by the way.”

Her cheeks warm. It’s something that stuck with her since childhood, rolling into the nearest source of warmth in the middle of the night and staying there, and, well, James was a veritable furnace.

It’s probably going to be a bit of a problem with the two of them more than likely sharing a bed for the week but whatever. She’ll deal.

Hopefully.

“Sorry,” she says after a beat, and then pretends to be collecting her things as they get ready to disembark.

They take a taxi to get to the Evans’ home and James is already stepping up to assume the role of boyfriend, taking her luggage from her and holding the door open for her to slide in.

Cokeworth is the same as ever, dull and bleak grey. It’s overcast, heavy, low hanging clouds looming ahead, and there’s ice and sleet, a muddy slush covering the pavements. The houses are all of the same design, lining the roadway with most of the front yards yellowing and faded numbers inscribed on the post boxes. It’s _home_.

The closer they get, the more nervous Lily finds herself becoming. Cokeworth isn’t anything like the hustle and bustle of the city; frankly it’s the opposite, slow and quiet and downright dreary in most places. They’re not living in poverty or anything like that, but most of the houses could use a new coat of paint and she knows that mostly everyone is thoroughly middle class, just like everyone is back at the complex she lives in, but, well-

James is _rich_.

He has always been rich, the only child to a pair of one of Britain’s most well known philanthropists. He may live in the same shitty complex as her, where the appliances are almost always on the fritz and the heat goes out sometimes, but it doesn’t change the fact that he could have afforded to replace all the appliances with top of the line ones and has a drawer full of watches that would probably cover a month’s worth of rent.

Objectively, she knows that he isn’t going to judge her, but she still can’t help but find herself worrying about what he might think.

The house is the same as ever, faded robin blue paint, chipped in some places, with a white trim and the front yard barren. During the summer her parents keep a small gardening flourishing near the porch, but she doubts that any of their flowers would be able to survive the cold.

There’s also a shiny, unfamiliar car parked in the driveway and Lily frowns at it. It must be Vernon’s and she certainly was not looking forward to spending time in his company so soon after arriving. She would have preferred passing the ruse off on one person at a time but it seems like they’re about to be thrown into the deep end.

It’s fine, she knows how to swim.

At least, she thinks so.

James takes her clammy hand in his, running his thumb over the top.

“Everything is going to be fine,” he mutters as the driver gets out. He squeezes her hand before following suit, racing around to open her door for her while the other man gets their bags out.

He insists on paying the taxi fare too, something which Lily fights him on at first, but eventually he throws his hands up in the air and says, “Evans, I’m really fucking rich, okay? Let me have this,” to which she finally acquiesces, albeit grudgingly.

The walkway is icy and she takes his hand as they creep along slowly to avoid falling flat on their ass.

“Ready to pretend that you’re disgustingly in love with me?” she breathes, cheeks flushed red from the cold.

He changes his grip on her hand so that now their fingers were linked. “Definitely,” he says, just half a second before her mother opens the door and swoops her up into a hug.

“Oh, I’ve missed you so much!”

“Hi mum,” she says, dropping James’ hand and hugging her back for a few seconds before pulling away.

Mrs Evans hasn’t changed much over the last few months- years really- still pudgy with greying blonde hair and green eyes hidden behind a pair of glasses that are constantly slipping down the bridge of her nose. She’s short, shorter than Lily, and the height difference is downright comical when she pulls James in for a hug too.

He’s caught off guard and she wishes she could have taken a picture of his face. She would have sent it to Sirius who would have turned it into the next big meme within in the hour.

He clears his throat when she finally releases him and holds out a hand. Lily honest to god snorts and only manages to turn it into a cough at the very last moment. He is not impressed judging by the dirty look he sends her way.

“James Potter,” he introduces himself with a charming smile, “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“The pleasure is all mine, my dear,” she says happily, giving his hand a good squeeze, “Lily hasn’t brought home anyone in ages.”

“ _Mum_ ,” she whines with a roll of her eyes.

“Alright, alright. I’ll save it for when your father is there to rag on you too,” she tells her, and she just huffs in response, biting back a smile.

“Well I guess that’s as good as it’ll get,” she sighs. “We’re gonna take our things up and freshen up a little. I saw a car in the driveway, is that Vernon?”

“Yes, he’s staying over for dinner. I know you two had a long day, but I do hope that’s fine.”

Lily is pretty sure her expression didn’t once waver from ‘happy to be home’ smile, but she feels James put a hand on the small of her back, an act of comfort. She leans into it and feels her smile become more relaxed.

“Yeah, no worries.”

They pop into the sitting room to trade a round of brief hellos and manages to stave off the imminent interrogation for the time being. She feels a vindictive stab of pleasure at the look on Petunia’s face when she sees James trailing after her. She looks like she just sucked on a lemon. It’s the _best_.

The feeling doesn’t last long though, as they climb up the stairs to her room. She can feel the nerves settling back in, not exactly because of James, but the idea of sharing her bed with someone. She hasn’t done that in a while and, well, Lily takes up a lot of space when she’s sleeping (or so she’s told).

She’s fairly certain that the weekend is going to end with one of them taking an accidental punch to the jaw.

“Bathroom’s over there,” she says, pointing it out. “And that’s Tuney’s room further down the hall. Do not even think about going anywhere near there unless you want to get attacked by a curling iron.”

“Jokes on you, I’ve been attacked by a curling iron before,” he says, and then colours slightly when she gives him a weird look. “My dad is the owner of Sleakeazy. They make hair tools too. Sirius was involved, it’s a long story.”

“Huh,” she says as she pulls open the door to her room. “I didn’t know that.”

“He’s stepped back from it these days. Focusing more on his and mum’s charity work.”

“I’m gonna use you to get freebies from them now. What good is a fake boyfriend if I can’t extort a new hairdryer from you?”

“Truly,” he agrees dryly, and she laughs.

It’s not really _her_ room anymore, not since she moved out all those years ago. She had taken most of her books with her then, but everything else from her teenage years- band posters, participation trophies, her collection of raggedy Anne dolls- all remained until her mother either threw them out or put them in storage. Now it was turned into a makeshift guestroom with inoffensive striped curtains and knick knacks on the shelves alongside a bowl of potpourri.

Her mother has been watching way too much HGTV.

She nudges open her closet with her foot and kicks her bag inside. She gestures to James to do the same before flopping face down on the bed and groaning into a pillow.

Somewhere next to her she hears a muffled laugh just moments before the bed dips.

“Alright Evans?”

She twists her head to squint at him through the tangle of hair obscuring her vision. “Yeah. I just thought we’d have time to catch ourselves before dealing with Petunia but I guessed wrong.”

“Ah yes, the infamous Tuney,” he says. “She was absolutely _beaming_ when she saw me behind you.”

“Yeah, she was thrilled,” she snorts, and flips over. “Ugh, I hate this already.”

“Ouch.”

“No, not you, you’re–” She stops herself, biting down on her bottom lip.

“I’m glad you’re here,” she says at last, looking up at him shyly from beneath her lashes. “I know we’re always, arguing and whatnot, but you really are one of my best friends, James. So, y’know. Thanks. For everything.”

For a moment he doesn’t say anything, and she notes the bob of his throat as he swallows heavily.

“Well I’m glad you brought me,” he says gruffly, and she grins at him. It prompts a smile from him in response too and it takes them a moment to realise that they’re just grinning at each other like a pair of fools.

“Come on, sugarpuff,” he grunts, pushing off his knees and standing up, “We’re needed downstairs.”

Lily pulls a face. “Please don’t call me sugarpuff.”

“Why not? I think it makes this whole this a lot more authentic, don’t you, my little treacle tart?”

“Oh my god, you’re terrible,” she groans, hiding her face in her palms.

James just winks at her and she flips him off. “Whatever; do you think if I hide in my closet anyone would realise? You could go down there alone. You don’t need me.”

“You’re supposed to be coming out of the closet, not going back in,” he says patiently, and she scoffs.

“Sage advice.”

He pinches her shin, causing her to squeak. “Come _on_.”

“God, fine, I’m coming, you’re so pushy.”

“Just fulfilling my boyfriend duties,” he chirps, and she sticks her tongue out at him like the mature adult that she is.

Lily takes a moment to scrutinise her reflection before they head down though, patting down the few flyaways, swiping on another layer of lipstick, and straightening her sweater. All the while James waits mostly patiently in the doorway, fooling around on his phone until she’s ready.

“Alright,” she says, steeling herself. She takes his hand, ignoring the fact that she was growing rapidly accustom to the feel of it in her own. “Let’s go. Time to pretend that you’re hopelessly in love with me.”

“Of course I am darling Evans, apple of my eye, keeper of my heart.”

His hand is warm in hers as they go downstairs and she can hear the polite laughter coming from the living room before she can actually see anyone. She can’t help but glance at James who’s looking completely at ease, despite the fact that their ruse is finally about to be tested.

“There you are,” says he father when they finally walk in. “We were beginning to think that you got lost.”

“Not lost, just tired,” she quips, giving him a smile. “James had to drag me away from my bed.”

“She was ready to tuck in,” he confirms, and her dad lets out a belly laugh.

“Well getting her out in one piece is a feat in itself. You’re a brave man for attempting.”

“I try my best,” he says, lips tipping up into a wry smile, and his hand hovers over the small of her back.

She finally chances a look at Petunia and Vernon and she’s delighted to see them watching them suspiciously from the loveseat. Or rather, Vernon is sneering at James while Petunia flat out glares at Lily.

Needless to say that it sets the tone for the rest of the evening and under any other circumstances she’d be conspiring how to kill herself with one of her mother’s many decorative throw pillows but this time it’s different.

This time she has James and he’s an honest to god _wonder_.

She forgets sometimes that while James can be a bit arrogant and self important, sticking his foot in his mouth more often than not, he can also be effortlessly charming, adept at spinning almost any social situation in his favour.

He’s all bright, white smiles from the the moment he says, “Vernon, Petunia, forgive me for not saying it earlier but congratulations to you both,” and it's _so_ worth it to see the flash of alarm flicker over Petunia's face.

Conversation is flowing, stilted at times, but James keeps up most of it, all polite smiles and enthused hums that seem to grate on Vernon’s nerves judging from the purplish colour his face has taken.

He goes on about his job as a sales director, explaining every term to them as if they were stupid, which would have normal riled her up, but James is next to her, oohing and ahhing even though she _knows_ that he has a BA in business and is in line to run his family’s own whenever he wants to take it.

They meet each other’s eye and it’s a struggle not to laugh.

Thankfully her mother saves them about twenty minutes later, calling everyone over for dinner. It’s a relief honestly; Lily is about 80% certain that Vernon is about to pop a blood vessel if James keeps up the act.

Not that she’d be terribly upset if that happened, but she figured that her sister might find a way to blame her for it. She might get her charged for involuntary manslaughter or something.

She’s too pretty to go to jail.

God, she's been spending way too much time with Sirius.

James pulls out her chair for her like any self respecting gentleman would, and flashes her a sly wink as he sits right opposite Vernon, directly in his line of sight.

Honestly, Petunia might rescind her invitation for the whole thing before dessert is served if they keep this up.

“So how’d you two get together?” asks her mother as she passes the potatoes.

Her sister perks up at this, ready to sniff out any lie she might tell, but they were prepared for this.

Squeezing James hand under the table she says, “A mutual friend set us up– Sirius, you’ve met him before– and it was, well. Something.”

“ _Something_ ?” her sister prods, “Come on Lily, use your words. We all know you’re particularly _verbose_.”

She wonders just how much trouble she might get into if she kicks Petunia in the shins. James seems to read her mind and, for once, he makes the mature decision and rests a hand on her knee, steadying her.

“It was kind of a disaster,” James says lightly, and she chuckles, ducking her head.

“That’s putting it mildly. We got into an argument over soup,” she tells her mother with a coy smile, and Mrs Evans smiles back indulgently at them.

It’s not really a lie; Sirius _did_ introduce them and their first meeting _was_ a disaster where they argued over soup. Except it wasn’t at a restaurant like her parents might be thinking, but over at their flat as they debated whether canned condensed soup was better than Ramen.

(James was obviously wrong; Ramen is fucking _staple_ amongst broke millennials.)

“Charming,” Petunia says, flat.

“Anyway, he made it up to me by bringing a dozen of those coconut dream cupcakes I love so much and the rest is history I guess,” she shrugs, flashing James what she hopes passes as a doting look.

“Truly riveting,” drawls Petunia before taking Vernon’s hand. “Vernon proposed to me in the park at night. It was during the first snow and there were a million little tea candles and it was beautiful.”

Lily cocks her head to the side. “I thought you hated the park? And snow for that matter?” she asks innocently and then doesn’t even wince when her sister steps on her toes. James is next to her struggling not to laugh.

Her father is quick to notice Petunia’s glare however and rapidly changes the topic. “You know, James, I don’t quite think you told us what you do.”

“Oh, I’m in between jobs right now,” he says airily, and she can practically see the vindication flashing in Petunia’s eyes.

“No wonder you’re perfect for Lily,” she says sweetly and Vernon chortles besides her.

“Well I’d like to think there’re a few other things that make us suit each other so well,” he smiles, giving her that thoroughly besotted look at that has her stomach flipping. “But right now I’m helping out my parents with their charity while working with my dad to handover the family business to me.”

“Family business?” asks Vernon, gruff, the same time Petunia sneers, “Charity?”

He dazzles them all with his trademark grin and Lily makes sure that she doesn’t have anything in her mouth for when he drops the bomb.

“Yeah, my parents founded the Potter Project. And before that my dad founded Sleakeazy’s. I assume you’ve heard of them?” he says politely, as though Fleamont and Euphemia Potter aren’t two of Britain’s most influential folk.

She’s not let down by their expressions; Vernon is back to that lovely shade of puce he turned before back in the sitting room, and Petunia’s eyes are bugging out of her head. God she wishes she had a camera.

“Well that’s… nice,” her sister says through gritted teeth and Lily tips her glass towards her.

If the rest of the weekend flies by like this then pulling off their ruse is going to be a _breeze_.

-

She ends up taking back those words no more than half an hour later.

Dinner was fine, good even with the help of James tag teaming with her to make Vernon and Petunia look as stupid as possible. But then after the dessert was had and the dishes were cleared and her sister walks out her walrus of a boyfriend, she remembers the upcoming dilemma that they’re going to have to deal with.

Specifically the issue of sharing a bed.

Lily’s not going to pretend that she’s a massive cuddler. She loves cuddling and there’s no doubt in her mind that she’s going to end up spooning him or something before the weekend is over.

The prospect shouldn’t delight her that much but, well.

Still, once they're back in her room away from prying eyes, she sags against the door. James might have made things easier, but it’s still exhausting to be constantly on around everyone, to second guess things like is he holding her hand for too long or does she look too stiff with his arm around her shoulders.

“I hope you don’t mind if I shower first,” she says, to try and delay the awkwardness as much as possible. Maybe she might be able to fall asleep before he comes back from his.

“Yeah that’s fine,” he replies, pulling his phone out of his pocket. “I promised Sirius that I would keep him updated and I have about forty texts to get back to.”

She snorts. “You know for someone who thought this was an absolutely insane idea he sure likes to be involved.”

“You know Sirius. He likes to know all the drama.”

“That he does,” she acquiesces.“I hope you don’t have plans for tomorrow because my mother gave me a laundry list of things she wants us to help out with.” She pulls a face. “I tried to beg off saying that Tuney wouldn’t want me ruining her engagement party and just got the _Look_.”

“The mother’s _Look_ is very scary I don’t blame you for folding,” he says, very seriously. “What are we doing?”

“Delivering the centrepieces from the florist to the decorators and picking up mum and dad’s clothes from the cleaners. Oh, and helping decorate a bit if we’re up for it. The lights still need to be strung on the porch.”

James waits for the rest and when it doesn’t come, he snorts. “That’s not a laundry list of things to do. That’s just three things. Or well, two and a half really.”

“It’s still a lot. I didn’t come here to be helpful.”

“No, you came here to be spiteful,” he says fondly, and her chest warms.

“That’s exactly it, yep.”

“You’re a fucking mess, Evans.”

“Takes one to know one, Potter,” she tosses back, grabbing her clothes and slipping out.

She keeps her shower short, towelling herself dry and slipping into her pyjamas in under ten minutes. James is exactly where she left him when she returns, laughing at his phone.

“It’s all yours,” she says and he flashes her a quick smile before heading out himself.

She focuses on turning down the bed, grabbing a couple extra blankets from the closet in case he turns out to be a blanket hog. She’s wearing actual pyjamas for once, a tartan set one of her editors gave her as part of their secret santa last year. They’re comfortable and modest and hopefully fine for platonically sharing a bed with one of her best friends.

The bed just seems to get smaller and smaller each time she looks at it and she huffs, climbing into one side and making herself comfortable. Might as well bite the bullet.

She’s dicking around on Facebook when the door creaks open again. She looks up out of habit and then her phone slides out of her grasp, landing on the mass of blankets with a soft ‘fwump.’

James doesn’t seem to notice as yet, too busy towel drying his hair and it’s honestly a lot, the low slung sweatpants, the bare chest, his glasses crooked on his face.

Lily actually has to swallow a few times to get her mouth working again.

It’s not like she didn’t know James was fit; she’s seen him in the background of Sirius’ ridiculous gym selfies, knows he was on the football team as a midfielder for his secondary school, but it’s one thing to know, but it’s another thing entirely to _see_ on display so blatantly in front of her.

She must be staring a bit too long because he starts to flush, a hand rubbing at the back of his neck.

Honestly, that doesn’t help her situation. It just makes his muscles tense and flex and dear god she is _fucked_.

(There’s also a teeny glint of smugness in his eyes but she does her best to ignore that. It’s better for her health that way.)

“Is this okay?” he asks, running a hand through his hair. “I usually sleep shirtless but i could put one on if you want me too.”

“No, no, it’s fine!” she reassures him shrilly.

He’s not even overly muscled, just nice and lean with a hint of definition, and she wants to simultaneously run her tongue over the ridges of his stomach and kick him in it for doing this to her.

She should have gotten an actual escort instead. At least then she wouldn’t have to deal with this bullshit sexual tension _and_ she would have gotten laid.

She also might have lost her liver or something as well, but dying after a good orgasm sounds like a good way to go in her book.

Goddammit, she really is fucked.

And not in the fun way either.

-

The next morning she wakes up mostly on top of James, who’s still asleep with his mouth hanging open. He has an arm around her waist which she’s guessing is mostly to keep himself on the bed judging from the six inches of mattress space he’s currently working with.

He’s very firm and warm and for the umpteenth time she’s realising that this was probably not a good idea.

He grumbles a little when she pulls away, and it’s only a few minutes later that he’s blinking awake, his hair a veritable bird’s nest atop his head and his entire being is still cocooned in that soft sleep haziness.

It’s adorable and she kind of wants to kiss his stupid face.

Just a little.

That’s a perfectly normal reaction okay.

“Good morning,” she says before she can work herself up into an obvious panic.

“Hey,” he yawns, squinting around for a moment before grabbing his glasses and pushing them on. He sits up and her eyes immediately fall on his chest, still bare and perfect.

Lily slept on that last night.

Lily _cuddled_ on that last night.

“So I’m going to brush my teeth,” she says, cheerily, with more energy than she feels as she jumps out of bed. “Bathroom will be free in about five minutes or so and then you come downstairs for breakfast.”

He muffles another yawn against his bicep. “Sounds like a plan,” he nods, and then has the audacity to _stretch_ , right then and there which is just totally and completely rude.

She brushes her teeth and washes her face twice, hoping that the icy water would make her flush look less like embarrassment and more natural. It works somewhat.

Petunia is already gone for the day and her mum is nowhere to be found. It’s just her dad reading the newspaper at the table while sipping from his mug of coffee.

“Morning.”

“Morning.”

“Where’s the boyfriend?”

“In the bathroom. Where’s your wife?”

“Out in the garage doing something or the other.”

She gets the kettle going while she works on the toast, and she’s cracking some eggs into a bowl when James finally shows up, dressed and ready for the day.

“Good morning Mr Evans,” he says politely, and she bites back a smirk at the hint of nervousness that creeps into his tone.

“James,” he replies. He drains the last of it from his mug and pushes back from the table. “You mother and I have errands of our own to run today so we’ll be in and out,” he tells her before pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. “Be well.”

“You too,” she hums, more focused on fishing out the bit of eggshell that fell in. Beside her James makes a wounded sound in the back of his throat.

“Let me do it.”

“I got it, don’t worry.”

“I’d rather like to not have my breakfast burnt beyond recognition.”

She glares at him. “I can cook you know.”

“I never said otherwise. I just implied that I’m a better chef than you,” he says smoothly, grabbing some vegetables and cheese from the fridge.

“You’re a better toerag than me that’s what you are,” she grumbles under her breath and he laughs.

“Whatever you say love muffin. Here, start chopping these for me.”

Lily will grudgingly admit that his breakfast is better than what she had planned, and he just smirks triumphantly through the whole thing.

“Shut up,” she says after when they’re washing up.

“I didn’t even say anything!”

“Your expression said it all,” she sniffs and he flicks a bit of water at her face.

“Aww, don’t be like that, Evans. You know you like it when I scramble your eggs,” he winks, and she can’t help the bark of laughter that escapes her.

“You’re ridiculous,” she tells him, and he just grins at her even wider. “Finish up here, I’m going to get ready for the day.”

“Yes ma’am,” he salutes, and she can’t help but smile as she climbs up the stairs.

So she might be getting a bit of a real crush on her fake boyfriend. No big deal.

It’s not even a crush; it’s an infatuation. A slight, small infatuation.

Whatever.

Neither of them have a car here nor do they particularly want to take her mum’s out to drive on the ice slicked roads, so James ends up calling a taxi again.

“The city has spoiled us,” he declares when it takes them a good twenty minutes to get to the florists. “Everything we need is within walking distance and no more than five minutes away.”

“This is why people say millennials are killing everything in cold blood.”

“Sorry modernisation is so scary to you.”

She just huffs out a laugh and takes his arm when he offers it as they get out of the car.

There are boxes of flowers for them to carry out, centrepieces made out of pink and white petunias and Lily rolls her eyes more than once.

“If I ever get engaged my engagement party is just gonna be cards, video games, and bring your own bottles,” she huffs, propping her hip on the tail light while James fits everything into the trunk.

“Sounds fun,” he says, wistfully. “My parents would probably make me throw something like this. They’re traditionalists. There’s a million and one steps involved in desi weddings before the actual wedding ceremony itself.” He let’s the trunk fall shut and wipes the dirt off on his pants. “It’s ridiculous.”

“Yeah, no, weddings are a hassle, catch me eloping.”

“Evans, you hussy,” he teases as they slide back in. “At least go sign something in city hall.”

“Nope. I’m going to live my life of sin to the fullest.”

“Well, follow your dreams I guess.”

They drop off the flowers at the hall her sister rented and then decide to walk over the cleaners to pick up her parents clothes despite the fact that there’re wispy snowflakes fluttering in the air.

Winter is fun for all of five minutes before it’s just cold and terrible and she can’t feel her nose anymore.

“We should have just gotten the car to drop us in front the shop,” she grumbles, wrapping her coat tighter around her.

Beside her James chuckles. “It’s just a little cold, Evans. It’s good for you.”

“Being outside is the worst.”

“Nature is magnificent thought. And you can’t argue that snow isn’t pretty.”

“If I wanted to see the wonders of nature I wouldn’t be out in Cokeworth three days from Christmas,” she harrumphs. “I would turn on the discovery channel like a normal person.”

He ducks his head, a soft smile tugging at his lips, one that sends butterflies fluttering about her stomach. “You really are something else,” he tells her, holding the door open, and for some reason it makes her blush.

“Thanks,” she says after a beat. “I think you’re something else too.”

“The word you’re looking for is _awesome_.”

“And cocky James strikes again,” she says dryly.

He bumps his hip into hers and winks. “He never left, love.”

“Whatever.” He lingers a few steps behind as she goes up to the counter with the slip, not really doing much.

“I know this is something we should have talked about before but outfits for tomorrow?” she asks once the lady at the register heads in the back to find her things. “I assume you know how to dress yourself based off of all those high profile events you go to , but it never hurts to check in.”

“I have two Sirius approved suits in my bag,” he promises. “One is nice, and the other is in case you want to upstage the lovely couple.”

“You’re like a Ken doll,” she says, patting his chest. “It’s amazing.”

It gets another laugh out of him and he scuffs his shoe against the ground. “Yeah, well, only the best for you, Evans.”

“Good, I deserve it.”

The woman returns with two garment bags in tow and she flashes her a quick smile before taking them and pivoting on her heel out the shop. James takes one of them from her, offering his arm, and she bites back a pleased grin.

“What colour are you wearing? We don’t have to match or anything but I’d hate for us to clash something awful. That would be–”

She doesn’t get to finish her sentence, her foot catching on a patch of ice and her entire body pitches forward. She screws her eyes shut, bracing for the impact that never comes and when she reopens them, James is holding onto her, a hand tight on her arm and the other around her waist.

Her hands are braced on his chest and she can see the flecks of gold in his eyes when she looks up, and bites her lip. His eyes darken imperceptibly at that, flickering down to her mouth, and for one heart-stopping second, she thinks he might actually kiss her.

… she _hopes_ he might kiss her.

The moment lasts for a second and then he’s helping setting her to rights, clearing his throat.

“My shirt is white, so I don’t think we should clash too much,” he says, voice hoarse, and she wills away the blood that has flown to her cheeks.

No doubt she’s redder than a firetruck at the moment.

“Uh, yeah. That’s good.”

After that, things get a bit weird. Conversation is stilted and awkward, to the point that after grabbing some sandwiches to go at the kitschy cafe on main street, they just stop talking until they get back home.

There, they eat lunch in silence and James mumbles that he’s going to take a minute before he helps her finish decorating.

She doesn’t say anything, just watches him leave, guilt, misery, and a tad bit of regret swirling in her stomach.

-

Most of the decorations have been put up already, so all they have to do is string up the porch lights and drape tinsel across every available surface.

She was looking forward to it earlier– she has decorated with Sirius and James before and it’s always a ride– but now she stands by herself in the garage looking at the boxes and feeling downtrodden even with her favourite Christmas playlist drifting through the air.

If James wants some time alone away from her she can give that to him, no matter how much it might sting.

They almost kissed.

That alone is enough of a reason to want some time apart, let alone the fact that they’ve practically been joined at the hip for almost thirty six hours.

Still, she can’t get the moment out of her head.

Their relationship has always been tumultuous from the very beginning, but she can’t deny that there wasn’t a flicker of interest there as well. James is hot. He knows he’s hot. And it’s not just one type, he can flip from _sweet and wholesome_ to _cocky bastard whose lap you want to climb in_ so fast that it gives her whiplash.

And despite all the shit she gives him, he’s a pretty dependable bloke, loyal to til the very end, funny and smart and intriguing. He was a great guy who’d do amazing no matter where he goes.

And they almost kissed.

She really wanted to kiss him.

Plus he looked like he wanted to kiss her, the way the muscle popped in his jaw and the dark glint of want that she saw for a millisecond before it was shuttered away and he stepped back–

“Need some help?”

Lily jumps, heart thumping a mile a minute in her chest, and she turns to find him leaning against the doorframe.

The air is fraught with tension and it’s downright uncomfortable.

“Yeah, uh, if it’s no trouble that is,” she says after coughing to clear her throat a few times.

“Nah,” he says, and then smirks, so sudden that she has to blink a few times to makes sure she’s not seeing things. “Besides, I’ll be doing a public service. We all know you can’t reach the high places.”

“Take that back!”

“I only speak the truth.”

“I’ll have you know that I have a step ladder and determination to aid in my endeavours,” she sniffs.

He’s still smirking at her, amusement dancing in his eyes. “Well then I’ll be there to catch you when you inevitably fall off.”

“That’s rude.”

“Come on, Evans,” he calls out as he turns away from her. “Time’s a wasting.”

“Ugh, you’re such a git!” she grumbles and almost fails to realise that initial tension has all but dissipated.

He’s good at that, getting things back to normal.

Or, well, close to normal.

Lily isn’t sure if after the almost kiss she’s scrutinising their interactions more and more, but James seems more tactile, a hand hovering on her hip when she climbs to fasten the lights to the eave, touching her shoulder whenever he slips behind her to grab something. He even presses a kiss to her temple, and she almost drops a roll of duct tape on her foot.

The increase in touching aside, they still get up to their usual bouts of shenanigans, especially with the tinsel.

They end up draping it more on each other than the through the house, and Petunia comes home to find James holding her in a headlock while he wraps a stream of green around her face.

“It’s because there’s so much red already,” he says, tugging on a lock of hair, and she elbows him in the ribs.

“God, you people are so weird,” laments Petunia as she stomps up to her room.

Usually a comment like that would creep under her skin but quite frankly Lily doesn’t pay much attention to it for once, too busy plotting her revenge on James.

It doesn’t stop him from finding her hand and giving it an encouraging squeeze though, even when she throws a length of gold tinsel right at his face.

Instead he just holds on to her hand and she throws a smile at him, tightening her grip on his fingers.

-

Lily wakes up with her limbs entangled with James’ again the next morning, her head nestled in the crook of his neck and his arm strewn over her waist, and she _aches_.

She has no idea how she fell for him so quickly. Just two days ago they were just friends and now she’s wondering what his lips would taste like and how it would feel to wake up next to him every morning.

(She absolutely refuses to entertain the notion that those feelings were always there and she was just in denial. That’s simply ridiculous and untrue.)

They don’t have anything planned today besides the party later this evening, so she fully intends on hiding away in her room far from her sister.

Cuddling with her fake boyfriend whom she has very real feelings for while it snows outside is a much better way of spending her day. Especially if the other option is getting yelled at by her sister for no reason other than to start a fight.

Lily loves fighting with Petunia, but cuddling with the half naked hot guy in her bed trumps that.

God, she really is gone on him.

She lapses back into sleep for a little while, and when she wakes again it’s around noon and James is up, tracing circles against the worn material of her sleepshirt.

He’s warm and lovely and looking at her with such a fond expression that she just wants to crawl on top of him and make out until their lips go numb.

“Hey,” he greets her, low.

“Hey.”

“Sleep well?”

She just hums, rolling out of his hold and arching her back. “Yeah. You?”

“Like a baby.”

Lily nods. “So unless you’re like, totally against it or whatever, I say we just hide out in here until maybe like 4:30 or something? The party starts at five, but we can be fashionably late.”

“Sounds like a plan,” he nods. “What are we going to do for the next five hours?”

It’s on the tip of her tongue to say _each other,_ but she swallows it down.

“I have Netflix,” she offers. “You can whip us up some chicken sandwiches and we can just stay in here all day.”

James grins. “Now that is a good idea.” He leans over and brushes his lips against her forehead. “Gimme twenty minutes to get the sandwiches ready and we’re good to go.”

It’s nice to waste their time like that, pressed up against his side, one of arms thrown behind her shoulders and her laptop balanced on their knees. They end up choosing some action thriller series that’s heavy on the explosions and light on the plot, trading anecdotes and stories with one another.

They’re through with it at twenty past four and she ruefully shuts down her laptop.

“Time to get this shitshow on the road,” she sighs, and he chortles.

“Hey, look on the bright side, free booze and expensive finger food.”

“I guess you have a point,” she says, sliding out of bed. “If there’s shrimp, I’m shoving half of it in my purse and running. Just a warning.”

“You’re a heathen,” he deadpans. “Go shower. I know it takes you a million years to primp.”

“It’s because I care about looking pretty!” she yells easily as she grabs a change of clothes to take with her to the bathroom.

James is still lounging on the bed when she returns and she throws the towel she was using to pat her hair dry at his face.

“You’re up, Potter.”

“Anyone every tell you that you’re incredibly rude?”

“All the time,” she chirps with a shark like smile. “Now go. Shower. You smell.”

“I’m going to break up with you.”

“Chop chop!”

Lily didn’t take her actual dress with her in the bathroom, instead she slipped into a pair of shorts and a tank top in order to do her hair and makeup.

She’s very conscientious about getting foundation on her clothes, and besides, the cocktail dress doesn’t have that much manoeuvrability anyway.

All she has left to do is put on her jewellery, but before she can do that, James sneaks back into the room, dressed and ready.

“–not sure how formal this thing is, do I need a tie?” he asks, distractedly fiddling with his sleeves.

Lily pivots on her heel and the words die on her tongue once she gets a good look at him.

His hair is rumpled mess, as though he ran his hand through it several times instead of using a comb like a normal person and his shirt sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, the stark white making his golden skin glow. And to top it all off he’s wearing a vest, charcoal grey and neatly pressed that makes his shoulders look broad and waist tapered.

James Potter was infuriatingly _handsome_.

Her heart has lodged itself in her throat, and there’s something buzzing beneath her skin, electric and pulsing.

She’s far too preoccupied drinking him in to notice that he’s doing the same to her, eyes wide with wonder, warm with affection.

A part of her is glad that no one else is here to see this because they’ve passed the stage of being ridiculous and gone straight to nauseating.

“You look nice,” he says, the exact same time she blurts out, “No tie,” because she’s an idiot whose brain has completely short circuited.

“I mean you look nice too,” she says firmly, feeling the flush working its way onto her cheeks. “We should, um, get going. If we show up while they’re giving speeches Tuney might stab me right there on the stage or something.”

“I promise I’ll avenge your honour,” he says solemnly, and there’s that warm feeling again, lighting up her insides more than the fairy lights they strung up yesterday.

There isn’t much traffic so they get there within the hour, while everyone is still mingling around with drinks in hand. They make it their first mission to visit the bar before meeting with anyone, grabbing two flutes of champagne.

James keeps his hand on the small of her back at all times, and just like he did with her parents, he manages to charm the pants off anyone within a ten foot radius.

Pretty much everyone from her great aunt Martha to one of Vernon’s nieces have taken to him, and she can’t keep the smug look off her face whenever her sister glares at them.

“This is fun,” she says, grabbing a canapé from a passing waiter. “I’m having fun. Are you having fun?”

“Easy boozy,” he grins, talking what was probably her third flute of champagne for the night from her grasp. “There’s a thin line between petty vindictiveness and being _that_ drunk at your sister’s party.”

“Shut up,” she says, thumping his stomach with her clutch. “Now come with me, I see the waiter who who has the shrimp. I won’t rest until I get at least three plates of it just for myself.”

James snorts, but lets her hook her arm through is as they march across the room to get her her shrimp.

Of course, Lily can’t have nice things, because when they’re a mere ten feet away, they get held back behind a gaggle of old women clucking and giggling and she’s more than certain are related to Vernon in some way.

And then if that wasn’t enough, one of them had to stop and shriek, pointing towards something above their heads.

“Mistletoe!” she says gleefully, and the warm alcohol-and-James induced feeling from earlier abruptly disappears.

“Oh,” she says, soft, looking up at the small cluster of branches. Besides her, James swears under his breath.

They can’t back out, not with at least a dozen eyes on them including her sister’s, so she turns to James, a wry smile on her face and her eyebrows tipped up.

He gets the hint, leaning forward and cupping her cheek as he presses their foreheads together, thumb trailing over the curve of her cheekbone. This close she can hear the slight hitch in his breath when she rolls forward on the balls of her feet, her lips brushing against his.

The kiss was supposed to be nothing more than a quick and friendly peck, easy to pretend that it was just part of the ruse they were playing, but all the feelings from these past few days are flowing through her, all the emotions and looks and words uttered between them, and Lily pitches forward and _kisses_ him.

He makes a soft grunt of surprise, but he’s kissing her back with equal fervour, his mouth burning hot underneath hers. It’s not chaste, it’s not friendly, and his hand spasms against her hip where he’s clutching it tight, but it’s _James_ , it’s all just James and Lily, and if this is all she’s ever going to get, she might as well take as much as she can.

Her thumb knocks his glasses askew when they part and they just look at each other for one burning second and–

And then he pulls away, leaving her cold.

James is still standing in her space of course, and there’s the ruby smudge of her lipstick against his mouth, but he doesn’t even look at her.

“James–” she starts as they move off to the side.

“It’s fine, it’s part of playing pretend, don’t worry,” he says, and his voice has gone all weird in a way that makes her eyes burn with unshed tears.

It’s like the aftermath of their almost kiss, except ten times worse, ten times as awkward and she _hates_ it.

No one can tell as far as she knows, but the coy grins and soft laughs have moved into stony silence and awkward grimaces.

It just figures everything would blow up in her face the minute things go right.

As the night wore on her disappointment faded into frustration and he frustration morphs into anger when it seems like he can talk with just about everyone but she.

He’s in the middle of discussing some of the new projects he’s putting together with her uncle when she suddenly blurts out, “I think I need to get some air. Excuse me.”

She doesn’t even look his way as she slips through the crowd, heading towards the conservatory out back, only stopping to grab another flute of champagne on her way there.

The air is cool but not terribly so as she walks around, breathing deeply to try and steady herself. She finds a cluster of concrete benches tucked away in the corner and sits, letting her head hang.

Maybe she completely misread everything, maybe he didn’t want to have anything to do with her like that and he was being nice. Friendly. She could have been seeing what she wanted to, deluding herself into thinking that whatever feelings she had were requited.

Soon enough she hears footsteps and she sighs, giving herself a mental pep talk to try and pull it together.

She doesn’t know how but it seems that James has become even more dishevelled in the five minutes that they’ve been apart, his hair sticking up every which way.

He says nothing as he sits next to her, not for a long moment, and the two of them watch how the light filters through the canopy of leaves above.

“Alright Evans?”

“I’m fine.”

He passes a cloth napkin over to her, one that he obviously filched from the waiters and it gets a watery laugh out of her.

“I’m sorry,” he says, leaning his shoulder into hers.

Lily scoffs. “What do you have to be sorry for? I’m the one who put you in that position because I thought you _liked_ me.”

James freezes. “Come again?” he asks, and his voice is hoarse.

“You heard me the first time, Potter,” she snaps. It’s been a long couple of hours and her patience has run out. “I misread the fucking situation and thought you wanted to kiss me too. It was a mistake. I’m fine. Don’t worry about it.”

He chokes on nothing.

“Wait, wait, wait,” he says when he finally finds his voice again, “What the hell does that me? You _misread_ the situation?”

“Yes! Because you obviously don’t _like_ me–”

“ _Like you_ ? I’ve been bloody in love with you for _ages_.”

Lily’s mind comes to a screeching halt and there’s an audible click as her mouth shuts.

“What?” she whispers, her heartbeat sounding so loud in her ears that she’s almost scared that it might drown him out.

“I like you. Ever since I met you I was– you were this beautiful, witty, charming girl and I didn’t stand a fucking chance,” he says, laughing bitterly. “You’re way out of my league and I was the fool who still got a crush on you. Who had a crush on you for the longest while and I wanted to be in your life as whatever I could get, even if it was just friends.”

“I was out of your league?” she asks in a small voice.

He lifts an eyebrow. “Have you met yourself Evans?” he asks, and it brings a flood of warmth to her cheeks. He rakes a hand through his hair, a sheepish smile gracing his face. “I told you, you were something else, and I–”

“And you love me,” she finishes, and he nods, the muscle popping in his jaw.

A wide smile breaks out on her face, threatening to crack it in two, and she slaps his shoulder.

“Ouch! What the hell?”

“I can’t believe we were so _stupid_!” she cries out, scrambling closer to him and eventually just throwing caution to the wind and climbing in his lap. It startles a laugh out of him and his hands automatically go to her waist, keeping her balanced.

“Well, stupidity is our speciality,” he says, and she laughs, bright and loud, leaning in to kiss him proper.

It’s the kiss that should have been, his fingers curling over her hips, more tooth than lip because they’re both smiling too much. James is mouth is sweet under hers, and he doesn’t hesitate at all when she coaxes it open to deepen the kiss. He just sits there and hold her, hands trailing all over— hips and waist and back and neck— and she’s just so _happy_ , leaning all of her weight into him and just kissing him for what must have been hours or days or even weeks.

When they finally part, his forehead against hers, fingers stroking her cheek just like he did before, Lily says, “I like you too. A lot. It’s rather embarrassing really,” and he just smiles boyishly.

“Well that’s good,” he murmurs, nuzzling her skin. “But now that just leaves me with one question: Lily Evans, will you go out with me for real this time?”

There’s warmth in her chest, taking root in her stomach, winding past her heart and blooming in her lungs. She can’t put an exact name to it— happiness, love, whatever else have you, she’s not sure what to call it— but she does know who’s responsible for putting it there, the man with hurricane hair and a heart so big it’s a wonder that it hasn’t burst from his chest.

Lily grins and kisses him again, soft and sweet and slow before she answers his question.

“James Potter, I’d love to.”

**Author's Note:**

> come find me in [my dumpster](http://hiddenpolkadots.tumblr.com/)


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